Late Night Laundry
by 427-67Impala
Summary: Sam and Dean have just wrapped up a vampire hunt and are doing some late-night laundry before they leave town. It's all very uneventful until Dean decides he should wash the clothes he's wearing, and there's only so much teasing Sam can take. Wincest.


_Title:_ Late-Night Laundry_  
>Author:<em> 427-67Impala  
><em>Rating:<em> M_  
>Warnings:<em> Wincest, established relationship, top!Sam, bottom!Dean  
><em>Word count:<em> 2,988  
><em>Setting:<em> Doesn't really matter... (after _Dead Man's Blood_, obviously :p)

_Summary:_ Sam and Dean have just wrapped up a vampire hunt and are doing some late-night laundry before they leave town. It's all very uneventful until Dean decides he should wash the clothes he's wearing, and there's only so much teasing Sam can take.

_A/N:_ Yeah... this is PWP :) Inspired, believe it or not, by the sign on the laundry room wall in _The Big Bang Theory_ - you know, the one that says "Please keep your clothes on while doing laundry".

As we know, Sam and Dean belong to Kripke & co. - I'm just borrowing their toys...

* * *

><p><em>Hewitt, Texas<em>_  
>The Apache Coin-Operated Laundromat<em>

"That's a good one." Dean commented, smiling and pointing at the sign on the wall above their chosen washing machines:

_Please empty pockets of:__  
>pencils, hairpins, tools, nails, bullets, money, etc.<em>

Sam looked up from their laundry, and chuckled as he scanned the sign - it even had a picture of a little cartoon cowboy shaking out his dusty jeans, a pile of debris from the pockets on the ground below.

"You know you're in Texas when they have to specify 'bullets'." Sam smiled, then continued sorting lights from darks.

Sam and Dean had been in Hewitt for the best part of a week, tracking a nest of half-a-dozen vampires that were picking off locals from the city and surrounding small towns. They'd dispatched every last one of those bloodsuckers with a surprise attack that afternoon, and spent a good portion of the evening burning the bodies and burying what remained - between that, a week spent traipsing around dusty backroads looking for the nest, and fighting their way through some pretty dense undergrowth to even get near the place, Sam and Dean were completely out of clean clothes.

They'd changed out of their vampire-blood-spattered attire before coming back into town, because walking around covered in blood and dirt was a really good way to draw attention, but the clothes they were wearing really couldn't be described as _clean_. Less dirty, maybe, but certainly not fresh. That's why the Winchester boys now found themselves at a 24-hour laundromat at midnight, washing almost every article of clothing they owned.

The Apache Coin-Operated Laundromat was a large, airy space filled with dozens of off-white front-load washers and dryers, and littered with padded metal-frame chairs that looked like they'd been bought surplus from Sizzler. The floor was terracotta tile, the walls on either side were painted a colour somewhere between apricot orange and straw yellow, and a desert mural took up the entire back wall. The room was lit by fluorescent tube lights, but everything was tinted slightly green by the neon sign that hung in the floor-to-ceiling front windows.

There was only one other person doing laundry at that hour - an old, grey-haired woman sat by the front windows, reading a tattered old paperback as her clothes spun around in the dryer in front of her. The cycle was almost done, and she wasn't paying the least bit of attention to the Winchester boys. Apparently her Mills & Boon novel was more entertaining.

Sam and Dean were in the back right corner of the laundromat, and their machines sat directly under a fresco cactus. Dean was content to throw all their clothes into one machine, lights and darks be damned, but Sam wanted his whites to stay, you know, _white_, and it took him a couple of minutes to sort both his and Dean's laundry.

As he was filling one washer with their whites, Sam heard a groan of annoyance from Dean. He hit the 'start' button and turned around to find his brother examining a dark stain on his jeans just behind his left hip pocket - a patch of vampire blood he hadn't noticed earlier, when he'd decided not to change his pants.

"Dammit - I didn't even _see_ this!" Dean grumbled, wiping at the blood with his thumb. "You know, if you leave that there it'll never come out." Sam observed mildly, and Dean gave him a withering look. Sam just smiled pleasantly back at him, then sat down on a chair and started going through the pockets of the jeans in the 'dark' pile. When he was sure they contained no cash (or bullets), he threw the jeans into the machine beside the one containing their whites and picked up another pair.

"Yes, _thankyou_, Sam." Dean narrowed his eyes and looked back at the stain. These were his favourite jeans, and he _really_ didn't want them stained with vampire blood - he'd discovered the hard way that if you let it dry on your clothes, it was almost impossible to get out. Much more so than regular human blood.

"No way am I going to let those bloodsucking bastards wreck my favourite jeans." Dean decided, looking around briefly before he took off his belt and set it down on the chair behind him. Sam blinked as he realised what Dean was thinking - he planned to throw his jeans into the open 'darks' machine, and sit around in his underwear until they were washed and dried.

Not that Sam would mind that, because he rather enjoyed watching Dean walk around half-naked, but the general public might take offence - such as the old woman by the dryer. Dean evidently didn't care, because he sat down and started untying the laces on his boots.

"Dean." Before his brother could get up and start undoing his jeans, Sam pointed out the sign right next to the one about removing bullets, etc. from your pockets:

_Please keep your clothes__  
><em>_**ON**__  
><em>_while doing laundry!_

Dean looked from Sam to the sign and back to Sam, and a sneaky little smile touched the corners of his mouth as he stood up. He glanced over at the old woman, still engrossed in her novel, then popped the button on his jeans with a flourish and lazily pulled down the fly.

Sam watched him discreetly from under his eyelashes, trying to look like he was concentrating on the jeans in his hands, but he couldn't take his eyes off his big brother. Dean smiled, well aware Sam was watching, and made sure to put on a show.

He kicked off his boots, then hooked his thumbs into the belt loops of his bloodstained jeans and slowly shimmied out of them, rolling his hips enticingly as he did. The worn denim fell down around his ankles, revealing the figure-hugging black boxer briefs Dean wore underneath, and Sam exhaled slowly as he tossed another pair of jeans into the washer.

His eyes didn't leave Dean, and he didn't notice the jeans get caught on the side of the machine and hang there. He was busy taking in the gentle curve of Dean's calves, which drew his gaze up to the cut, muscular quads and then onto the intriguing contours under those black briefs...

Dean stepped out of his jeans, then slowly bent down and picked them up. He smiled as Sam grabbed another pair of dirty jeans from his pile and started absently going through the pockets, shifting in his chair and resting them on his lap to try and disguise the rapidly growing erection that was making his own jeans uncomfortably tight.

Dean dropped his bloodied jeans on the chair near his discarded belt, then shrugged out of his black jacket and turned his back on Sam, leaning over to hang it on the back of the chair. Sam lifted his head and watched as Dean slowly and deliberately stretched out, the movement pulling his flannel shirt up to his hips and giving Sam an unobstructed view of the black cotton briefs stretched tight over the firm, muscular globes of his ass.

Dean could feel Sam's eyes on him, and he allowed himself a satisfied little smile before he draped the jacket over the chair and turned back to face his little brother. There was a slight pink flush high on Sam's cheeks, and he wasn't bothering to pretend he wasn't watching. The jeans sat forgotten in his lap, his attention now focused exclusively on his big brother.

There were a few spots of blood on the hem of Dean's dark grey flannel shirt that he wasn't going to worry about, but seeing the undisguised look of desire on Sam's face, he decided he'd better be thorough and wash that too.

Dean slowly undid the buttons on the shirt, starting at the top and working his way down, slowly revealing the maddeningly figure-hugging black t-shirt underneath. Sam's eyes followed his fingers, and Dean smiled when he saw his little brother catch his bottom lip in his teeth as he shrugged out of the shirt and let it fall to the floor behind him. He turned around and crouched down to pick it up, feeling his t-shirt pull taut across his back and shoulders, and grinned when he heard Sam let out a breath that sounded almost like a little moan.

Dean got back to his feet, but didn't make eye contact with Sam as he picked up his jeans and threw them into the machine with his shirt. He retrieved the rest of the darks from the floor, showing off his ass some more, then bent over and placed the armload of dirty laundry right at the back of the machine, slowly, giving Sam a chance to appreciate his tensed calves and taut hamstrings. Not to mention the slim hips and that rounded, toned backside... Sam had to stop himself reaching out to caress those inviting curves through the thin cotton briefs.

Before he knew what was happening, Dean had stolen the jeans from Sam's lap and thrown them into the machine with the rest of the darks. "So, Sammy, is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?" he asked, smiling coyly, and Sam's slight flush turned into a full-blown, deep pink blush as he folded his hands in his lap to try and conceal his rather obvious hard-on. Dean watched on in amusement, shamelessly standing there in his underwear, and Sam glanced over at the old woman as she got up to retrieve her clothes from the dryer.

As soon as she'd loaded up her basket with her dried laundry, the old lady pocketed her novel and walked out the front door of the laundromat without so much as a glance in the Winchesters' direction. The door closed itself behind her, and Sam let out the breath he'd been holding as the chimes fell silent. He looked up at Dean, the blush fading slowly from his cheeks, and his big brother just grinned back at him.

"Right. You asked for it."

Sam got up from his chair and pushed Dean roughly up against last washer in the row. It was in an alcove off the main laundromat, not visible through the big front windows, but Sam didn't notice. It wasn't like he'd planned it that way - at this point, he wasn't concerned about who might see them. He was past caring. His tease of a big brother was going to get it now.

There was a smile on Dean's face as Sam shoved him front-on into the washer, a rough hand on the back of his neck pushing his cheek down to press against the top of the appliance. There was a shriek of protest from the stitching when Sam almost tore Dean's briefs as he yanked them down, baring the two perfect, flawlessly-smooth globes of Dean's ass. Teasing Sam had been fun all by itself, and this little display of dominance from his baby brother was just gravy as far as Dean was concerned.

It wasn't often that Dean found himself in this situation. Generally, he much preferred to be on top and Sam enjoyed being on the bottom - 95% of the time, that's how it was. That said, all Sam had to do was say the word and Dean was quite happy to swap roles. But Sam rarely asked - usually, when his baby brother wanted a turn on top, it was because Dean had driven him to it by doing something out of the ordinary. Like putting on a striptease in a public laundromat.

Dean heard Sam hurriedly undoing his own jeans, and the denim made a rustling sound as they fell to his ankles. There was a snap of elastic and Sam's (white) boxer briefs joined them, accompanied by a small sigh of relief as the almost painful pressure on his hard-on was relieved.

Dean saw Sam reach out to the shelf above the machine he was bent over, and his brother grabbed an almost-empty tube of moisturiser someone had left there. He squeezed what little was left into his hand, then Dean heard a little moan fall from Sam's lips as he reached down and rubbed the slippery lotion all over his achingly hard cock.

Sam's left hand pressed down hard between Dean's shoulder blades then, and without warning two slick fingers forced their way past the tight ring of muscle in Dean's ass and slid knuckle-deep inside him before he'd even finished sucking in a shocked breath. Evidently, Sam wasn't playing around - he wasn't being as gentle as Dean was used to, and his stomach fluttered in unexpected excitement. He actually kind of liked this confident, dominant Sam.

The sudden burning sensation hadn't even had time to subside before Sam's fingers were gone again. Dean took a couple of quick breaths as Sam's left hand moved to his lower back, sliding up under the faded black t-shirt and rubbing up and down his spine. Sam pushed hard enough to keep his brother bent over at the hips, chest touching the washer, and Dean took a deep breath in anticipation as he felt Sam press right up close behind him.

He barely had time to exhale before he found himself sucking in an involuntary gasp at the hot flash of pain as Sam entered him, without a word of warning. Dean shut his eyes and tried to breathe, the hot, stinging pain slowly - _very_ slowly - fading to a dull burn as his body stretched to accommodate Sam.

Sam's erection was appreciably larger than the space it now occupied, and Dean needed almost a full minute to adjust. Sam had felt Dean's whole body tense when he'd mercilessly pushed inside him, right to the hilt, but he waited until Dean was ready before he started to move. His brother might have been asking for it, but Sam didn't want to hurt him - not too much, anyway.

Sam's hands pushed Dean's shirt up further and rubbed his back slowly, temporarily back to the gentle little brother that Dean was used to. The eldest Winchester took some deep breaths and gradually relaxed under him, and was enjoying the feeling of his brother's big hands massaging his back and tracing the lines of his ribs when Sam drew back and then thrust back in - gently at first, making sure it didn't hurt too much.

The hand lotion didn't provide much lubrication, and Sam was secretly quite glad not to be on the receiving end of this, but a little sigh of pleasure from his big brother told him that Dean evidently didn't mind. In reality, it was just that Dean couldn't have put two words together at that point - he couldn't concentrate on anything other than Sam.

After that, there was nothing gentle about it. Sam held Dean down the whole time, left teeth marks on the back of his neck, and there would be bruises on his quads where they'd been repeatedly slammed into the washer by the force of Sam's thrusts, but Dean didn't care and Sam didn't even notice.

It didn't take Sam long to come - after Dean's little striptease, he didn't even need ten minutes. Unfortunately, Dean - pressed hard up against the washing machine and unable to reach down to his own achingly hard cock - didn't get his release before the little bell on the door twinkled, as some other night owl turned up to do a load of laundry.

Sam heard the door open, gave Dean one last sneaky little nip on the back of his neck, then stepped back and wordlessly started pulling up his jeans. Dean let out a soft groan of disappointment and looked over his shoulder at his baby brother, who had a satisfied little smile on his face as he went back out into the laundromat like nothing had happened. He started the second washer, then sat nonchalantly in his chair like he hadn't just almost been caught screwing his big brother over a laundromat washing machine.

Dean sighed and pulled his underwear back up, tried and failed to find a comfortable position for his erection, then slipped into his jacket when Sam tossed it to him. He sat in the seat next to his little brother, and they watched their clothes spinning around in the soapy water for a minute before Dean spoke.

"You know we're not done yet." he said, softly but intensely, and Sam let out a short chuckle. "Oh, _I'm_ done." he replied cheerfully, and got a punch in the arm that did nothing to lessen the smile on his face.

"Don't worry - I'll look after you when we get back to the motel. You already got your punishment for being such a tease." Sam assured his big brother, smiling knowingly. "I wouldn't call that punishment." Dean huffed, trying to sound put out, but a little smile touched his lips - he wasn't usually keen to be on the bottom, but he had thoroughly enjoyed that. While it lasted, anyway.

"We'll revisit this when you sit up to get out of bed in the morning." Sam grinned, and Dean blinked as he realised what his baby brother was talking about. He'd done this to Sam often enough - when the mood had taken him he'd bent Sam over the hood of the Impala or something, then poked good-natured fun at him when he'd woken up sore the next morning. Sam was just getting his own back.

"Hey, it could be worse." Sam added, a wide smile still on his face as he looked over at Dean. He was already taking far too much pleasure in his brother's future discomfort for Dean's taste. "I mean, imagine if I hadn't found the hand lotion."

* * *

><p><em>A short little fic just to get the plot bunny out of my head. Lots of fun to write: imagining Dean doing that little stri<em>_p__tease... *fans self*__  
>I think I like a little top!Sam occasionally, too. Makes a nice change :)<em>

_So, anyway - please review and tell me what you thought! (And if you liked it, hit a 'share' button at the top of the page and tell someone!)_


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